


Eclipse

by misura



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Something Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 11:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Auguste of Vere, recently returned from exile, looked at his brother's naked body, offered for his pleasure and thought,This is not how I expected my homecoming to go.





	Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nabielka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/gifts).



Auguste of Vere, recently returned from exile, looked at his brother's naked body, offered for his pleasure and thought, _This is not how I expected my homecoming to go._

 

_A shameful thing._ That was what people kept telling him, when he had first returned to court.

He had not disagreed. It was nothing he had not felt himself, all those years ago, when Akielos had demanded his exile as the price of peace. His father had been dead: was that not enough?

After all, his father had been king, whereas Damianos had only been the crown prince. Auguste remembered facing him, remembered thinking how young Damianos was, to be standing on a field of battle.

Of course, Damianos had also been very good. Auguste had felt the tide shift with Damianos's arrival, had seen the Akielons regain their spirit, their lust for victory. When he had faced Damianos himself, he had understood why.

He had not yet realized that killing Damianos, at that point, would no longer be enough, that the heralds would declare the battle lost mere minutes after he had taken Damianos's life. He had stood there, Damianos's blood still fresh on his sword, and he had not known what had happened.

Things had gone very quickly after that: he had been told that his father was dead, that his uncle had been named Regent. That the Akielons were screaming for his head for the death of Damianos.

_A shameful thing._

The fight had been fair. Men died, in war. Men - and boys capable of wielding a sword as well as an experienced man twice their age. It was not something that required reparations.

Even so, Auguste had accepted that the price for Vere's survival would be that he never set foot in it again. He had written a letter to Laurent, wishing him well, promising more letters, _'though I fear my spelling will not improof, now that I no longer have you to correct my mistakes'_.

His uncle had promised to deliver it into Laurent's hands himself, to see to it that Laurent would grow up to be a worthy king. He had hinted, even then, that Auguste's exile might one day be reversed, that Vere would not always need to bend to Akielos's demands.

Auguste had not dared hope that might be true, until a messenger had found him, to tell him that Theomedes was dead, and that a bastard now ruled Akielos. That Auguste, at last, might come home and reclaim the throne that had always been rightfully his.

 

The Laurent who welcomed him home had seemed like a stranger, cold and distant.

Even so, Auguste had been able to look at that Laurent and see the little brother he had left behind and had loved and loved still. The distance was understandable, he had told himself. They had been apart for many years. Laurent had been very young when Auguste had left.

If he had never received any letters from Laurent in reply to his own, there were many explanations for that. He did not doubt that Laurent had sent them, just as he did not doubt that Laurent still loved him.

The Laurent who faced him now was worse.

_A king's duty,_ his uncle had called it. _Distasteful, but necessary._

Auguste had looked at him and not dared to ask if his father had performed this duty. He remembered his father as a good man, a great king. To imagine him -

_And then we call the Akielons barbarians._

He had asked, _What if I refuse?_. No one could dispute that he was Aleron's son, and first-born.

His uncle had looked uncomfortable. _The Council will offer the throne to your brother._

Auguste had felt almost dizzy with relief. _I have no desire to rule, if that is the price. Let Laurent take the throne, if he wishes it._ Exile had been bitter for missing Laurent, and his home and the injustice of it: he had never looked forwards to the burdens of kingship.

_It is not as simple as that,_ his uncle had said, his tone regretful, sympathetic, before he had proceeded to explain.

 

"Aren't you going to do anything?" Laurent asked. He sounded almost bored.

"I don't know." Auguste wished there were someone here he could hit. When he had faced Damianos, he had known that he might very well die, but he had not felt afraid. He had known that either he would kill Damianos, or Damianos would kill him. Everything had been simple.

Once upon a time, talking to Laurent had been simple, too.

"You don't know," Laurent repeated. They had painted his face, making it impossible to see if he was pale, if he was blushing. His expression gave away nothing at all.

His body - but Auguste had no particular desire to look at Laurent's body.

"It all went so fast," Auguste said. "We didn't even get to talk before - before."

"We can talk after. If you want."

"If I want," Auguste echoed. "What about what you want? You're - I missed you. I wrote you every chance I had. I know it wasn't very often," he added. "And I suppose they weren't very good letters."

Laurent looked at him. Auguste felt as if he was staring at a puzzle. If only he solved it, he might have everything he wished for.

"You can close your eyes and pretend I'm someone else," Laurent said at last. "It's what I'm going to do, anyway, so why not you as well?"

_Because you are my brother and I would rather die than hurt you,_ Auguste thought.

What he said, stupidly, was: "Because I love you."

He thought something shifted in Laurent's expression, then, something cold and bitter and broken.

"Then this really shouldn't be so hard, should it?" Laurent said, reaching for him.

 

Auguste's experience with men was so limited as to be non-existent. Laurent seemed more experienced, more knowing. Auguste tried to find comfort in the knowledge that at least he hadn't been Laurent's first.

He wondered who had been, and if they had been kind and given Laurent as much pleasure as they had taken, and then he felt disgusted with himself for thinking of such things.

"You know, until just now, I wasn't sure if you were going to go through with it," Laurent said.

Auguste had tried to follow Laurent's advice. It hadn't helped much. All of Auguste's recent lovers had been women, soft in places where Laurent was not. Some of them had laughed with him, or whispered to him what they would have him do next, how he might best please them. Laurent had barely made any sound at all.

Auguste had managed, in the end, though he knew not now how.

He said, "Oh," not knowing what else to say. He felt stupid, and slow, and detached from what had happened, what he had done. It was, he thought, better than accepting the truth: that he had lain with his own brother. He had been wrong to agree to something like that. He should have refused, should have trusted that doing what was right would mean that all would be well.

_You slew Damianos of Akielos in fair battle, and look how that turned out._

"I thought - " Laurent started, then seemed to change his mind. "Not that it matters."

Auguste forced himself to think, to act. He reached out and put his hand on Laurent's arm. Laurent flinched.

"Laurent," he said. "It matters."

Laurent's eyes were too bright. "No." He shook off Auguste's hand. "It really doesn't. You see, I have decided that if anyone is going to be king, it should be me."

"I agree," Auguste said. He realized he sounded eager, almost feverish. If Laurent wanted the throne, if all Auguste would have to do to buy his forgiveness was to give it to him, then he would be more than happy to do so.

Laurent seemed not to have heard him. "I suppose I should have you executed, but people might not like that. Perhaps after a few years? With Uncle dead, I doubt you have all that much support."

Auguste felt cold. "What are you talking about?"

Laurent smiled at him, looking almost cheerful. "I believe they call it a coup," he said.


End file.
